Page 5 of The Playboy

“Brady’s right,” I said to Camden. “I don’t know what lonely means.” I grabbed his shoulder, squeezing it. “I told you about my latest conquest, didn’t I?”

“The real estate agent?”

I blinked, trying to piece together who Camden was talking about. “Who?”

“The agent you were telling me about the last time you were in LA. I can’t remember her name …”

“Real estate agent, real estate agent,” I repeated, releasing his shoulder. “Nope, doesn’t ring any bells.”

“Seriously? We had a long conversation about her …” His voice faded as he looked at me, slowly shaking his head. “There’s been so many that you can’t even keep them all straight.” He pounded my fist. “Untamed—that’s what you are, my man.”

I shrugged. “It’s a big island. Over five hundred square miles. You know how many women that is?” I laughed.

“By the time you move back to Los Angeles, I have no doubt that you’ll know exactly how many women that is.” He clinked his cup against mine, although I assumed his was empty by this point. “I’ve missed your ass. It’s time to come home.”

“But I barely just got here.”

Sure, there were moments when I wanted to be in LA, but there was something about Kauai that I was really digging. The weather was gorgeous. The beach was relaxing enough. The water was refreshing when I needed something cool.

And the women?Fuck. The women were incredible.

“I guess that’s true,” Camden said, “but it feels like you’ve been gone forever.”

“I’ve got several more months to go.”

Construction wasn’t slow by any means. It was just detailed, and it took someone meticulous to make sure everything was going the way Walter wanted. That was only half my job. The other half was dealing with our tenants. Spade Hotels wasn’t in the restaurant business, so every eatery within our establishments worked on a lease. Those tenants would fly into Hawaii periodically to check the progress and to meet with me about their terms.

First up was the Westons—a group of four brothers and a sister who owned the most successful, highest-rated steak house chain in the country. When you ate at Charred, you thought about your meal for weeks after. It wasn’t just dinner; it was an unforgettable experience. Not only were they building one in our Kauai hotel, but they were also constructing a club, so our guests could eat dinner and then go dancing for the night.

“When you get back to California, will you be grounded for a while or taking off right away to build the next hotel?” Declan asked.

“I’ll be home for a bit,” I replied. “We need to reconfigure some of our older properties. Increase efficiency and their processes. Cut costs without skimping on labor or service or amenities. Walter hasn’t updated those hotels in years. It’s time I dig in and get dirty.” I smiled at Camden. “Which means you’ll be seeing plenty of me.”

“Looking forward to it, buddy.”

I stared at the ceiling—which was a mirror that reflected the flashing strobe lights—as though it were a woman with the most beautiful set of tits. “Ahhh, the third wheel. My favorite role.”

Camden rolled his eyes. “If you just settled down, you wouldn’t have to be. Oaklyn would befriend anyone you got into a relationship with. Think of all the double dates we could go on, the places we could travel.” He nudged my arm. “We’d have a lot of fun.”

“Or you could just come out a couple of nights a week without her, and we’d have even more fun.”

That was how our friendship had rolled before Oaklyn shackled him.

She was great—I wasn’t knocking her as a person. But, man, things had been different when he was single.

I’d had my best friend’s time and attention whenever I wanted it.

“Suck a dick,” Camden groaned. “You know, I actually like hanging out with my girlfriend, but I realize that’s a concept you don’t understand.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

The party bus came to a stop. As we stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the club, Camden’s arm shot across the top of my shoulders.

“The thing is,” he began, “I look forward to having dinner with her. Opening a bottle of wine. Going to bed together. Bingeing a show or two before she falls asleep on my chest.”

At twenty-seven, I was three years older than Camden, but, shit, he sounded like he was well over the hill.

“What are you, fifty?” I chugged the rest of my vodka and tossed the cup in a nearby trash can. “That’s marriage talk, my man.”

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